Every Feb. 2 a sober gathering of top-hat wearing theologians assembles at an ancient hill on the grounds of Gordon–Conwell Theological Seminary in Hamilton, Mass. The meeting is swelled by thousands of curious tourists and townspeople as well as media representatives. They await the emergence of Punxsutawney Philemon, a monkish faculty member who has been hibernating all winter in his Hobbit-like hole, a niche under an oak tree. He traditionally emerges, sniffs the air, takes a number of astronomical observations, performs a quick Google search, and then pronounces whether the Second Coming is imminent this year, or will be delayed.
One of our favorite wordsmiths at it again.